leaning forward and folding his arms on the desk. "I got a call from St. George yesterday, about some crazy powerful dragon he found. Hasn't even changed yet but his eyes have gone gold; he took out three dragons and seven men before they managed to tranq him."
"That's gotta be a fucking mistake," Blaze said.
Rust laughed. "That's what you're going to figure out. St. George has called in a favor. They want you to break the dragon in."
Blaze recognized the gleam in Rust's eyes. "You want me to steal it."
"Of course. You'll be given funds for travel and living expenses while you're there. Bring that dragon to me at all costs, Blaze. Trace has all the information you'll need."
"You got it, Boss," Blaze said, and stood up. "Hey, what happened to that ass who tried to fuck with me in the club?"
"He's been taken care of," Rust replied. "You won't see him again."
Blaze nodded. "Right. I'll call you when I get there."
Rust smiled, leaning back in his chair and lighting a fresh cigarette. "Get me that dragon, Blaze, and you're out of the pits."
"Then you can count me out of the pits, boss," Blaze said before the door closed behind him. Trace handed him a manila envelope thick with papers. "Thanks."
"Be careful," Trace said. "St. George is considered a bastard even in our line of work."
Blaze shrugged the words aside. "I'll be fine. They haven't kicked my ass yet. Take it easy, Trace." He strode off down the hall, eager to be on his way. Erie was hot on his heels, growling happily as they climbed onto his motorcycle and headed back toward their apartment.
Back in their apartment, Blaze dropped his keys on the front table and made straight for the kitchen. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and then settled at the kitchen table with the packet Trace had given him.
Erie, back in dragon form, pawed at his leg and growled plaintively.
Blaze pretended to ignore him, ducking his head to hide his grin. Erie's growls grew louder, and his pawing held a hint of claw. Still Blaze ignored him, flipping through poorly scanned copies of medical files and recon reports—then yelped as Erie abruptly knocked his chair over and climbed on top of him.
Grunting at the hard landing, the breath briefly knocked out of him, Blaze scowled. "Brat."
Erie growled loudly, nipping playfully at his shoulder. "Okay, okay," Blaze said, conceding defeat. "Let me up, you damn lizard, and I'll get you some food. Like you can't get it yourself, you spoiled brat."
Nipping him again, Erie climbed off and prowled over to the fridge and waited impatiently, tail lashing back and forth. Snorting in amusement, Blaze climbed to his feet and walked over. He opened the fridge and grabbed a container of ground sirloin. Carrying it back to the table, he fed Erie chunks of meat piece by piece until it was finally gone.
When he was done, Erie growled and pawed again.
Smirking, Blaze stood up and went to the cabinet where he kept a glass jar full of mint candy of every shape and size. He set it on the counter and removed the lid, picking out a red and white peppermint and unwrapping the cellophane. "Who wants mint?"
Erie growled as he padded across the kitchen towards Blaze, his claws clicking on the linoleum floor. He reared up and placed his heavy front paws on Blaze's shoulders and growled again.
"You smell like meat, dragon," Blaze said, but dropped the mint into his mouth and rubbed his snout. "Get off me."
Instead, Erie smoothly shifted and wrapped himself around Blaze, forcing him to hold on or risk them both toppling to the floor again. "Dragon—" Erie cut him off with a hungry kiss, and Blazer permitted it because they had every reason to be excited.
They were getting out of the pits, and all they had to do was train a dragon. He didn't care what anyone said, steel dragons didn't exist. It was probably just a quad-black. Those were rare, but not impossible.
Blaze grunted as Erie drew back enough to stand, oofing as Erie then surged forward to pin
"That's gotta be a fucking mistake," Blaze said.
Rust laughed. "That's what you're going to figure out. St. George has called in a favor. They want you to break the dragon in."
Blaze recognized the gleam in Rust's eyes. "You want me to steal it."
"Of course. You'll be given funds for travel and living expenses while you're there. Bring that dragon to me at all costs, Blaze. Trace has all the information you'll need."
"You got it, Boss," Blaze said, and stood up. "Hey, what happened to that ass who tried to fuck with me in the club?"
"He's been taken care of," Rust replied. "You won't see him again."
Blaze nodded. "Right. I'll call you when I get there."
Rust smiled, leaning back in his chair and lighting a fresh cigarette. "Get me that dragon, Blaze, and you're out of the pits."
"Then you can count me out of the pits, boss," Blaze said before the door closed behind him. Trace handed him a manila envelope thick with papers. "Thanks."
"Be careful," Trace said. "St. George is considered a bastard even in our line of work."
Blaze shrugged the words aside. "I'll be fine. They haven't kicked my ass yet. Take it easy, Trace." He strode off down the hall, eager to be on his way. Erie was hot on his heels, growling happily as they climbed onto his motorcycle and headed back toward their apartment.
Back in their apartment, Blaze dropped his keys on the front table and made straight for the kitchen. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and then settled at the kitchen table with the packet Trace had given him.
Erie, back in dragon form, pawed at his leg and growled plaintively.
Blaze pretended to ignore him, ducking his head to hide his grin. Erie's growls grew louder, and his pawing held a hint of claw. Still Blaze ignored him, flipping through poorly scanned copies of medical files and recon reports—then yelped as Erie abruptly knocked his chair over and climbed on top of him.
Grunting at the hard landing, the breath briefly knocked out of him, Blaze scowled. "Brat."
Erie growled loudly, nipping playfully at his shoulder. "Okay, okay," Blaze said, conceding defeat. "Let me up, you damn lizard, and I'll get you some food. Like you can't get it yourself, you spoiled brat."
Nipping him again, Erie climbed off and prowled over to the fridge and waited impatiently, tail lashing back and forth. Snorting in amusement, Blaze climbed to his feet and walked over. He opened the fridge and grabbed a container of ground sirloin. Carrying it back to the table, he fed Erie chunks of meat piece by piece until it was finally gone.
When he was done, Erie growled and pawed again.
Smirking, Blaze stood up and went to the cabinet where he kept a glass jar full of mint candy of every shape and size. He set it on the counter and removed the lid, picking out a red and white peppermint and unwrapping the cellophane. "Who wants mint?"
Erie growled as he padded across the kitchen towards Blaze, his claws clicking on the linoleum floor. He reared up and placed his heavy front paws on Blaze's shoulders and growled again.
"You smell like meat, dragon," Blaze said, but dropped the mint into his mouth and rubbed his snout. "Get off me."
Instead, Erie smoothly shifted and wrapped himself around Blaze, forcing him to hold on or risk them both toppling to the floor again. "Dragon—" Erie cut him off with a hungry kiss, and Blazer permitted it because they had every reason to be excited.
They were getting out of the pits, and all they had to do was train a dragon. He didn't care what anyone said, steel dragons didn't exist. It was probably just a quad-black. Those were rare, but not impossible.
Blaze grunted as Erie drew back enough to stand, oofing as Erie then surged forward to pin
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